


You Are Every Move You Make

by FourCatProductions



Category: Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim
Genre: Age Difference, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Blow Jobs, But it's there, Community: skyrimkinkmeme, Dirty Talk, First Time, M/M, Older Man/Younger Man, Pining, Porn with Feelings, Rimming, Size Difference, a lil bit, everyone is gay and the points don't matter, the ot3 stuff is very minor, well older mer younger mer but same difference
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-09
Updated: 2016-07-09
Packaged: 2018-07-22 15:16:31
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 13,677
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7444042
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FourCatProductions/pseuds/FourCatProductions
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>No matter how obvious it is to everyone else, Urag remains oblivious.</p>
            </blockquote>





	You Are Every Move You Make

**Author's Note:**

> For a prompt on the skyrimkinkmeme that requested a gay Orc/Bosmer pairing and tender size kink. I guess I just write about Orcs gettin' it on now. 
> 
> (I've always had a soft spot for Urag. And stories about characters who won't let themselves have what they want.)
> 
> Title is from the song "Owner of a Lonely Heart".

It was nearing midnight, and the last of the apprentices had come and gone, rubbing reddened eyes with ink-stained fingers as they tottered off to bed. The Arcanaeum, however, remained pristine, because Urag had gone out of his way to appear even more threatening than usual. The last thing he needed was a bunch of chattering nitwits ruining his collection because they couldn't be arsed to remember to re-shelve things properly, or wipe their hands before turning the pages. But finally, they'd departed, leaving him in peace to soak up the luxurious silence that he'd come to love during his time at the College. This was _his_ domain, no one else's. There was a comforting familiarity in that, and so what if a room full of books was the closest thing he'd had to a real companion in half a century? He had a cup of mulled wine and the latest copy of Shalidor's writings, thoughtfully delivered to him just the other afternoon by the Arch-Mage. He didn't need company. He was finally, blessedly alone.

Well. Almost.

"Talvan," he grumbled, not bothering to look up from his place on the page. "Talvan, you blasted nuisance, I know you're there! Stop thinking you're so clever and show yourself."

There was a faint snort somewhere on his left as the air there shimmered, the telltale mark of an illusion, and then it dissipated altogether with a soft  _pop!,_ and Urag found himself with a lapful of smirking Bosmer.

"You always say the sweetest things." Talvan's voice was low, and teasing - forever teasing. "I'm getting better, don't you think?"

Urag scowled and shoved him away. A hint of juniper wafted past him as Talvan, smirking, let himself be shoved.

"Don't be a brat. What are you still doing here?"

"You know perfectly well what," Talvan countered with a cheeky grin, the one that made Urag want to both kiss and curse him in the same breath. "I'm practicing my Invisibility and Muffle spells. Seemed as good a time as any."

"Well, you could certainly use the practice, but this is neither the time nor place."

"You wound me," Talvan said, and propped his hip on the corner of Urag's desk, crossing his arms over his narrow chest. "Actually, I really wanted to see if you had the next volume of A Dance In Fire for me to borrow." 

"You can read it here when I open up tomorrow. You know I don't let anyone take books out of here unless they're purchasing them."

"Why can't I read it now?" 

"I have to sleep sometime tonight," Urag reminded him. "I'm not going to hang around waiting for you to find a good stopping point."

Talvan pouted at him, but it disappeared as quickly as it had come, replaced by one of his ever-present, easy smiles.  "Fine, fine. I'll be by tomorrow after lectures." He looked around, then leaned in, head cocked. "I heard tell of a rumor that Rumi and Kresta got a stern talking to the other day by a certain librarian after being caught in a compromising position in the Runes section. Care to comment?"

Urag rolled his eyes. The College of Winterhold was notorious for its lack of privacy, and he'd had to chase many an apprentice from the dark nooks and crannies that surrounded him, all of whom had been made bold by an influx of hormones and the potential thrill of public debauchery. Naturally, it was the sort of environment that bred rumors like vermin, and Talvan was one of the worst offenders.

"Don't be nosy."

"You accuse _me_ of being _nosy_?" Talvan asked, eyes deliberately wide and face all scrunched up. "I'm hurt. I may cry."

He looked utterly ridiculous, and Urag had to cough to cover up a bark of laughter. Encouraging the elf never ended well. That was how they'd fallen into this strange friendship of theirs (and he was growing fonder of the little fetcher all the time, but he had no plans to admit to that out loud, either).

You gave Talvan an inch, and he'd take several miles - the College staff had learned that the hard way. He'd already been permanently banned from the Arch-Mage's quarters, and after the incident with the spiders, the Midden would never be the same. Neither would Onmund or Tolfdir, come to think of it. Still, it was hard to be mad when he turned those big green eyes on you and smiled, dimples and all, as he was currently doing. "I'm merely wondering if the reports of my classmates'... _flexibility_ were exaggerated or not."

"I'll overlook your strange preoccupation with this topic if you pick a different one. Otherwise, you're welcome to go discuss it elsewhere."

"Oh, you're no fun." Talvan reached out and tugged on his beard playfully. "C'mon, old one. Haven't you ever thought about what it might be like to let yourself get carried away during late night research sessions? Or about throwing someone up against one of your -"

"If you say 'bookshelves', I'm banning you for a week," Urag snapped, thick brows drawing together as he batted Talvan's hands away. It didn't bother him that Talvan had referenced their age difference. Of course not. He was just in a bad mood, was all. Too many people in his space all at once tended to have that effect. That, and the thought of bodily fluids coming into contact with the centuries-old manuscripts he'd worked so hard to preserve.

Talvan merely tutted in response, unruffled. "You don't have to be so tetchy." He tilted his head and surveyed Urag's desk. "How about this, then?" He rapped the knuckles of his free hand against it and winked. "Seems nice and sturdy."

Urag's throat was dry. "What's your point?"

 

"Oh, c'mon! You can't tell me you've never had someone over this thing." Talvan leaned forward, curiosity bright in those mesmerizing eyes. "We're friends. You can tell me. I bet it's seen all sorts of action in your day."

A part of Urag was intrigued by the insinuation, and uncomfortably so. The rest of him was still feeling strange, almost bruised beneath the surface, and unsure of why the conversation was heading into such dangerous territory. Intentional or not, it was cruel to taunt him like this.

"Don't you have anything better to do than try to live vicariously through an old Orc? You apprentices have too much free time on your hands." Talvan opened his mouth, but Urag cut him off at the pass, desperate to steer them back towards solid ground. "I need to clean up around here, so I suppose you can start in on the next Dance In Fire, _if_ you promise to stop when I tell you I need to close up. No complaints."

Talvan perked up at that and readily agreed. Soon, they settled into a comfortable silence, broken only by the occasional rustle of a page turning or a soft thump as Urag gathered up various books and returned them to their rightful place among his collection.

It was easy to lose himself in the familiar routine and put their earlier conversation out of his mind. So easy, in fact, that he almost forgot he wasn't alone until a quiet snore broke him from his reverie. Talvan was slumped over the table, cheek pressed against the page, and something about the serenity of his countenance in that moment made Urag's gut twinge. 

He finished replacing the books in his arms before shuffling over, and he only meant to shake Talvan back into wakefulness, but he somehow ended up awkwardly petting his hair instead. _Just for a moment,_ he assured himself, and got lost from there in the feeling of the smooth strands beneath his fingertips, contrasting with the bristles where it was shorn close to the scalp, and again with the warm, soft skin at the nape of his neck.

The urge came over him then - he wanted to put his teeth into that tender flesh as he took Talvan over his desk. Not to hurt or humiliate, simply to remind him who was giving him pleasure in that moment. Urag's cock began to stir for what felt like the first time in decades, and alarm spiked, sickly and sharp, in his chest. He shook himself out of his fantasy as quickly as he'd fallen into it, and prodded Talvan awake.

"Hey." His voice was gruff, and he hoped Talvan couldn't tell that it was thick with want, rather than simple irritation. "You can't sleep here."

"Why not?" Talvan asked drowsily, eyelids fluttering as he fought to open them.

"You have your own room."

Talvan made a face at that, standing up and stretching with an exaggerated yawn. "I didn't think it'd take you that long to re-shelve some books."

"I would have gotten it done sooner, but _someone_ had nothing better to do than hang around and distract me."

"Well, if I see them, I'll be sure to give them a piece of my mind." 

"You do that." Urag put a hand on the small of his back - gods, Talvan really was small, was he eating enough? _Stop fussing!_ - and gave him a gentle shove. "Off with you. No more dawdling." And then, because he immediately felt as if he'd been too harsh, he added, "Come by in the morning and you can finish the book."

"I'll drop by after my first lecture, then." Talvan favored him with one last, slight smile. "Good night."

"Good night," Urag echoed, tone overly formal in comparison, and watched him leave. Once he was sure he was alone, he locked up the Arcanaeum and went back to his room, where he shed his robes with some difficulty - his joints were stiff and sore now that he was no longer young, especially in the bitter cold of Winterhold nights, and made movement a chore at times - before crawling into his bed, which seemed much emptier and lonelier as of late than it ever had before.

Tonight, however, that was the least of his worries. He tried to ignore it for as long as he could, but his hyper-vigilant state only made him agonizingly aware of every little discomfort: the chill seeping into his bones through the drafty stone walls, the growing ache in his balls, and the way his cock lay hard and sticky against his thigh, insistent on reminding him of his predicament. Talvan's words from earlier echoed in his mind, a challenge and a temptation all rolled into one. _"C'mon, you can't tell me you've never had someone over this thing... I bet it's seen all sorts of action in your day."_

_No,_ he thought as he pushed his quilt to the side and took himself in hand. _But you could help me change that, if you wanted to._

It had been a long time since he'd felt the need to bring himself off, and hardly ever with this sort of urgency, underscored by shame and lust in equal measure. Talvan was far too young to be properly interested in him, would probably be disgusted if he knew that the College's old librarian was currently biting his forearm to stifle any undignified noises that might escape him as he jerked his cock with clumsy, rough passes of his fist, thinking of his fellow mage's mouth all the while. But he didn't have to know. Would never know, if Urag had his way. It was just this once, he told himself silently, even as he wondered when he'd gotten into the habit of lying to himself so easily. _Just to get him out of my system._

He shivered and canted his hips into his hand, letting his imagination take over, and an image materialized - Talvan on his knees, determined and whimpering as he struggled to take more of Urag's cock into his mouth. His pretty pink lips would be stretched obscenely wide around the shaft, hair matted to his forehead with sweat and drool running down his chin as he braced the flat of his palms against the librarian's thighs and tried to go even deeper. And Urag would encourage him, push his hair out of his eyes and run the pads of his thumbs over the delicate taper of Talvan's ears as he whispered words of praise, telling him how well he was doing, how beautiful he looked like that, just a little bit more...

It had been too long, and he was desperate. The fantasy dissolved in a rush of heat as he came with a low groan, spilling over his knuckles and making a mess of his belly and groin in the process. Once he'd caught his breath, he fetched his discarded smalls and cleaned himself off the best he could. There were teethmarks in his forearm, two perfect indentations where his tusks had dug into him, and he blew out the candle on the nightstand so he didn't have to look at them anymore.

He'd taken the edge off, but only just; his heart remained a heavy, wounded thing in his chest. He saw Talvan nearly every day, but he was as untouchable as the moons overhead, or Aetherius itself. Urag was too old to harbor such foolish inclinations, and he had no intention of risking the dissolution of their friendship over a moment of weakness. It was nothing he couldn't put behind him in time. 

He fell asleep dreaming of eyes like spring and a whisper in his ear, soothing as a summer breeze.

 

Less than a year ago, Talvan strolled through the front gates of the College to take up residency, and at the same time, slithered under Urag's skin and lodged there. In many ways, it already felt like a lifetime had passed. He'd taken to Urag right off, for reasons that were still unclear to everyone but him, and had spent hours upon hours in the Arcanaeum during his first few months, pouring over the contents contained therein as he tried to engage Urag in conversation.

When that hadn't worked, he'd turned to practical jokes: books written in invisible ink, copies of The Lusty Argonian Maid hidden inside the jackets of other, less filthy manuscripts, bespelling all the skulls lining the halls and shelves to recite some truly awful poetry whenever Urag walked by, and on one memorable occasion, casting an enchantment that turned every single book in his possession into a rabbit simultaneously. It had taken the better part of two hours and half the College staff to round them all up and change them back.

At some point, Urag stopped keeping track, there had been so many. But his bewilderment hadn't really begun until the gifts started to turn up, interspersed amongst the chaos. Shiny little bits and baubles of pearl and gems, freshly-baked sweets, flowers, and first-edition copies of books he'd been hunting for months all showed up at one point or another, seemingly without rhyme or reason; they simply appeared on his desk every so often, no note, no explanation.

At first, he hadn't known what to make of the situation, nor had he given it much thought. His lack of companionship was largely his own doing, and most of the apprentices were too scared of him to even dream of engaging in casual banter. But this one, the little Bosmer with eyes like seaglass and quick, expressive hands, had perched on the edge of his desk during their first meeting and started chattering away like they were old friends. He couldn't decide if he admired that sort of oblivious fearlessness, or was merely irked by it, and ended up settling somewhere in the middle, even though he usually ended up kicking Talvan out after a bit, just to get some peace and quiet.

When the visits ground to a halt, and the pranks began, he'd thought at first they were Enthir's doing. The oily bastard lived to provoke him. But he'd dismissed that theory early on, simply because they weren't Enthir's style. There was nothing inherently malicious or permanent in their nature, nor were they designed to separate him from his coin. They were silly, and obnoxious, but easily dealt with, and above all, they were performed to attract his attention, even if only for a moment.

His gut had told him it was Talvan, but he had no proof, so he'd held off on leveling any accusations. Truth be told, there was a small part of him that was curious to see what might happen if he refused to react to them.

He'd had his answer when the presents begun to accumulate, and that was when he'd found himself truly baffled, though not unpleasantly so. Why give him such things? Nobody had ever seen fit to do so before, and if it really was Talvan's doing, it made even less sense than it might have otherwise; he knew almost nothing about Talvan, and he'd resisted all attempts at getting him to open up in turn. They weren't friends. They weren't anything. And yet, he'd begun to look forward to them after a time, though he never would have admitted it. Not knowing what was going to happen added a sort of spark to his daily routine that hadn't been present since Septimus' departure so many years ago. It didn't make sense, and yet, he couldn't find it in himself to complain.

By then, Talvan had started to take up more and more room in his thoughts, welcome or not, and at some point, it had shifted from a wary curiosity to something that flirted with obsession. Why had he chosen Urag as a target for his strange campaign? Was it truly innocent, or was there something more sinister at the heart of it all? As far as he knew, he'd never done anything to hurt or slight the other, save refusing to engage him anything beyond superficial conversation, which was how he treated everyone. He'd then spent weeks observing the elf from afar, only to become increasingly puzzled by each new discovery.

Talvan was nice to everyone, even Colette. He was clever and liked to tease, but his jokes were never intentionally mean-spirited, or so it seemed. He was always the first one with an answer or some new question during lectures, and from the looks of it, well ahead of his peers when it came to practical application of their studies. He was also stubborn as an ox, short-sighted and dogged in his approach when he had his mind set on something, and bluntly honest, often to his own detriment. As far as Urag could tell, he wasn't the type to mess with an old librarian's mind just because he could.

Of course, this all had left him with more questions than answers. Why would a young mage with so much potential choose to focus all his spare time and energy on such ridiculous endeavors? He would have been better served joining his peers in their study groups and pursuing one of his many would-be suitors. Urag had observed no less than three of Talvan's classmates gazing at him with much more than simple admiration in their eyes during one of his lectures. Not that he'd been counting - he'd simply made a habit of checking to see who was and wasn't paying attention. He couldn't figure out what it was all supposed to mean. Naturally, it had to come to a head at some point.

One very early morning, he'd opened up the Arcanaeum and found Talvan standing behind his desk, book in hand. He froze, Talvan froze, and they'd regarded one another with leery gazes for a moment before Talvan had cleared his throat and said, "Well. You're an early riser."

"How did you get in here?" Urag had asked. He'd wanted to be angry, but truthfully, he was more interested in the how and why of Talvan getting up up early, picking the complicated locks he'd had installed years ago, and sneaking his way into the library, all apparently to deliver a book. He'd squinted at the title, which revealed it to be a well-worn copy of The Third Door. "And what are you doing with that?"

"Oh, that. I've had a bit of practice with locks," Talvan had said, waving away the query with something close to embarrassment on his face. "And this is for you."

"I already have a copy of that one."

"Ah, but is your copy signed?"

Urag had raised an eyebrow at that, curiosity piqued. He'd extended his hand, and Talvan had come around the desk and given it to him readily. When he'd flipped the front cover open, there had been the crude, spidery scrawl of Annanar Orme, just below the title. Something had taken root in his chest in that moment, vague and undefined, but there all the same, and when he'd looked back up, Talvan had grinned at him, sheepish and beautiful with his angular face and tawny hair and strange, pale eyes.

"So... I hope I haven't inconvenienced you too much lately, with the 'turning your books into rabbits' incident and whatnot."

"I thought that was you," Urag had said, once he'd been satisfied that he could speak normally. "None of your classmates are that creative."

"I wrote all the poetry that the skulls were reciting, too."

"Now, that I wouldn't admit to."

To his credit, Talvan hadn't been offended. He'd merely laughed and said, "Well, you can't blame me for trying."

The conversation had halted then, as Urag had continued examining the book and Talvan had waited patiently, until it was clear that there was only one direction that it could go at that point.

"Why?"

Talvan didn't try to pretend he didn't know what was being asked. "Well, getting your attention the old-fashioned way wasn't doing me any good, so I resorted to something a bit more drastic. Glad to see it worked."

"But..."

Here, Urag had trailed off, uncharacteristically at a loss for words, and Talvan had taken advantage of the pause to edge closer, not quite infringing on his personal space, but on the edge of doing so. He'd looked almost shy, which was not a look he wore often, or at all, in Urag's best recollection.

"What I'm getting at is, I'd like it if we could be friends," he'd said carefully. "If you want."

"I... don't find the idea distasteful," Urag had replied after a pause, and the smile he'd received in response made him clear his throat and look away, too much in its brilliance to look at directly. Just then, the door to the Arcanaeum had flown open, and in had marched Colette, determination plain in her eyes. She'd headed straight for Urag, and he'd braced himself - her idea of "a quick chat" could last up to an hour if he didn't extricate himself in time - but Talvan had stepped neatly between them and intercepted her before either one of them had time to register what he was doing.

"Colette! I've been looking everywhere for you. I had some questions about your last lecture on wards."

"Really?" She'd drawn herself up, surprised and pleased. It was a well-known fact that almost no one paid much attention to her, positive or otherwise, and Talvan had taken advantage of her momentary distraction to draw her aside to a nearby table, nodding. 

"Absolutely. I was wondering if I could pick your brain about how exactly they work with regards to blocking spells versus physical attacks." He'd drawn her out a chair before seating himself, and she'd beamed at him before launching into a breathless spiel, beginning with the blocking radius of specific wards. Urag had backed away to his desk, slowly, and as he'd done so, Talvan had glanced over his shoulder and winked.

Perhaps, Urag had decided, having a friend once more wouldn't be so bad.

 

He was out in the courtyard a few days later, sitting on the edge of the central font as he reveled in the fresh air, bitter and crisp with the promise of snowfall to come. A shadow fell over his shoulder, and then Talvan was there, breath wreathing his head in a pale cloud. His nose and ears were pink from the cold, and his teeth flashed white against his amber skin when he smiled.

"I quite liked your lecture today," he said by way of greeting. "Do you really think Shalidor knew the secret of life?"

"There's not enough evidence to come to a conclusion either way right now," Urag said, and utterly failed to hide how pleased he was by the question. Most of the apprentices tended to be somewhat uninterested in anything not directly pertaining to their chosen field of study, and it showed. But Talvan not only listened, he showed genuine appreciation for the theory behind magica in all its forms. Yet another reason why their interactions as of late had become a form of exquisite torture. "But I recently caught wind that there might be another fragment of his research in a barrow near Solitude, up in the mountains. Jal is investigating the matter right now."

"Of course he is," Talvan said wryly. "You'd think he was the college errand boy, not the Arch Mage."

"He saved my life's work from certain destruction. As far as I'm concerned, he can do what he likes." While it was true that the their new Arch Mage was more at home trawling dusty ruins than handling day-to-day affairs of the College, he'd also breathed a new energy into the place, and brought an influx of students eager to learn. They hadn't been this alive and bustling since before Savos Aren had been an apprentice. And yes, he had awful taste in lovers, but he kept Enthir in line, so it could have been worse. "You're just upset that you're still banned from his quarters."

"I was in there for a perfectly legitimate reason!"

"No one is foolish enough to believe that you were 'doing a cleansing of the magical centerpoint'," Urag told him, hiding a smile.

Talvan scowled at him. "Why must you be so cruel? Come walk down to the Frozen Hearth with me. I'm dying for something warm to drink."

"I can't leave the Arcanaeum unattended for that long. You know that."

"Why, did you accidentally soul-trap yourself to your desk?" Urag gave the elf his best glare, which only served to egg him on. "Will you disintegrate if you're away for more than an hour? Will you burst into flame if you leave the grounds?"

"You're a thorn in my side. You're aware of that, right?"

He stood, and Talvan reached over and plucked at his sleeve, pouting. "Oh, come on. I was only joking. Please? My treat."

Urag looked down at him and was struck, as he so often was, by how pronounced their height difference was. He wasn't exceptionally tall, being of an average build for an Orc, but Talvan was small, even for a Bosmer; the top of his head barely reached Urag's sternum. It made him feel strange, almost protective, which wasn't a feeling he experienced often (or ever).

"Very well. Since you're buying. But I can't stay long."

Talvan slid his arm through Urag's, linking their elbows. "Then we'd best get started."

 

Urag had told himself on the way down that he'd only stay for an hour or so, but as it happened, an hour's time came and went rather quickly, and he blamed his reluctance to leave on the warmth of the tavern and the ale in his belly. He ended up ordering a second, and then a third, just to while away the time as he listened to Talvan (who was nursing his fourth or fifth mead at this point) prattle on happily about his latest lesson with Drevis.

"- so, you see, it's unclear whether one actually _becomes_ invisible, or is merely manipulating the minds of those around them to appear as such... or not appear, as the case may be." He chuckled and wiped his mouth on his sleeve, cheeks flushed. "Interesting stuff, isn't it?"

"You have the worst sense of humor," Urag said dryly, and took a swig. "I can't decide if you really do think you're funny, or if you're deliberately trying to drive me mad."

"Shows what you know," Talvan said. "I'm hilarious." He downed the rest of his tankard and licked his lips, which were distractingly pink and shiny with drink. Urag tore his gaze away before it lingered too long to be accidental.

"It doesn't count if you're the only one who thinks so." He took another sip of ale to wet his mouth, but it didn't help, not while he was forced to watch Talvan tear into the roasted pheasant breast he'd ordered and suck grease from his fingers after every bite. He wasn't self-centered enough to think it was on purpose, but it was still entirely unfair.

"You love me," Talvan retorted before going back to his meal. There was nothing Urag could say in response that wouldn't be either incriminating or a lie, so he just shook his head and kept silent, even as his heart began to throb with a dull ache. What was wrong with him? He'd been sad when Septimus left, felt the loneliness acutely for weeks, even as he buried himself beneath mountains of paper and ink; he'd known, even then, that he would most likely never see his friend again. But he rarely felt this sort of longing to reach out and touch - to be physically close to another being in such a manner. And now here he was, sweating like some besotted youngling, unable to stop himself from staring as Talvan licked his fingertips and made throaty little noises of satisfaction.

He thought back to the other night, and Talvan's sudden interest in whether or not the Arcanaeum would be a suitable spot for public sex. Perhaps he was planning on bringing someone there for a tryst and wanted to know how practiced Urag was at interrupting such things. Jealousy flared deep in his gut, sour and curdled, though he knew he had no right to feel such possessiveness. Nevertheless, he wouldn't help but picture what it might be like, were he the one Talvan wanted. The Arcanaeum was his and his alone. No one would dare bother them after hours. They could try the desk. Or Urag could take him up against the wall, maybe, watch his skin flush all dusky and dark pink like mountain flowers, listen to him whimper, gasping as he fell apart beneath Urag's fingers and tongue -

"Urag? Are you alright?" 

It was like ice water to the face. He came back to the present with a sickening jolt to find Talvan watching him, brow wrinkled in concern.

"Of course," he muttered, gruff with mortification. "I'm fine."

He was _not_ fine. He was hard as steel beneath his robes, and he attempted to adjust himself discreetly beneath the table with an internal wince. It was a good thing there was hardly anyone else about in the middle of the afternoon, save Ranmir, who was so deep in his cups he probably wouldn't have noticed if a dragon landed on the roof.

Talvan, for his part, looked unconvinced. "If you're sure. You had a very odd expression on your face."

"Must be the ale." It was the first excuse to come to mind. "I rarely touch the stuff. Starting to remember why."

"Oh, really? Let me see." And before he could stop him, Talvan reached across the table, swiped the bottle from between Urag's forearms, and downed the rest of it in one go. "Tastes fine to me," he announced.

Urag couldn't help but laugh despite himself. "You really don't have any manners to speak of, do you?"

"I do so! I'm just selective in how I utilize them."

"Well, I hope you're utilizing better judgment with all that mead, because I'm not carrying you back," Urag warned him.

Talvan scoffed. "Please. I'll be skipping the entire way back to the dorms, just you wait and see."

 

In the end, both of them lied. Talvan could barely stand by the time they left, sometime around sundown, let alone skip, and after his third or fourth failed attempt to walk without falling, an exasperated Urag picked him up, threw him over his shoulder, and tromped the rest of the way home, grumbling as Talvan swayed and laughed drunkenly, clearly enjoying himself.

"I thought you said you weren't gonna carry me."

"I got tired of watching you flounder about in the snow."

"My hero," Talvan slurred, and laughed again. Next thing Urag knew, there were hands all over his back, sloppily groping the muscles there, and he almost dropped Talvan, catching himself at the last second as he stumbled. "Never knew you were so strong."

"Just because I'm your elder doesn't make me feeble." True, he no longer had the vitality or raw power of his younger days, and he'd gone somewhat soft around the middle from sitting at a desk, but he was still more than capable of holding his own. Besides, Talvan weighed almost nothing when compared to hauling stacks of books around on a daily basis. "You're not going to be sick on me, are you?"

"'course not," came the indignant reply. "'s just that m' legs don't work."

"Well, you may be surprised to learn this, but that's what happens when you drink your body weight in alcohol."

They had reached the entrance to the walkway now, where Faralda stood guard as she so often did. She raised one finely-arched brow at them, but stood aside all the same so they could pass. Talvan waved merrily at her as Urag stumped past. "Hullo, Faralda!"

She waggled her fingers in response before turning her attention back to the town, and once they were a respectable distance away, Talvan informed Urag, in what he most likely thought was a confidential tone, "Half my class is infatuated with her, you know."

"I didn't know," Urag said. "Nor do I care."

"Why not?"

"Because the incestuous mess that passes for romance around here is none of my business, and unlike a certain drunken elf, I have no interest in the sordid pastimes of your classmates."

"Fine, be a stodgy old troll," Talvan huffed, and neither one of them said much of anything after that until they reached the dorms and Urag was climbing the stairs to the second floor. "I'm sorry I called you a troll," Talvan mumbled, remorseful in the way only drunks can be over some small slight. "I didn't mean it."

"I've been called worse," Urag said. They'd reached Talvan's room now. It was easy to tell which one was his, as it was by far the messiest on the floor. He stooped down and brushed piles of hastily scrawled notes, chewed quills, and empty inkwells out of the way before depositing Talvan's limp form as gently as he could onto the bed.

"You're much nicer than a troll."

"Depends on who you ask."

"You smell better."

"You can stop complimenting me now." Urag straightened up with a grunt, and smoothed the front of his robes, mostly for something to do with his hands. He'd never been in Talvan's room before. "Try to sleep this off. Or at least lay here until you're sober."

"Okay," Talvan sighed, eyes closed. Then, in a much softer voice - "Urag?"

"Yes?"

"'m sorry if... if I talk too much or if 'm annoying." He sounded truly mournful now. "'m just lonely sometimes, and you're nice to talk to."

Guilt prickled at the nape of Urag's neck, hot and unhappy. He knew that Talvan came from Valenwood and hadn't been in Skyrim long, comparatively speaking, but he'd never really considered how isolated he might feel, far from the rich, humid lushness of the jungle and everyone he'd ever known. He sat down heavily at the foot of the bed.

"You're not annoying," he said honestly. "Most of the time, anyway. Truth be told, I... I greatly prefer your company to anyone else's."

"Really?" Talvan opened his eyes at that, and his expression went so soft and sweet that Urag nearly leaned in and kissed him. He bit his lip instead.

"Of course. You don't think I let just anyone drop by at midnight, do you?" And perhaps it was the guilt, or the way Talvan was still looking at him, but he felt compelled to add, "I haven't cared much for friendship since Septimus left, but... I do enjoy yours. And I should have thanked you for it long ago."

"Who's Septimus?"

"A brilliant scholar. Mad as a rabid skeever, but brilliant." He'd never talked about what happened before. No one had ever asked. "He was the best friend I'd ever had. Maybe the only one. He left years ago, though. No one here knows of him, save maybe Enthir and Tolfdir."

"So, you were close, then," Talvan said thoughtfully. There was a veiled question there, beneath the statement, and it took Urag a second to realize what he was implying.

"We weren't lovers, if that's what you're getting at." The very thought made him snort. "But yes, we were close." He paused, shifted his weight on the cramped bed. "I miss him still, even now."

"I know."

"You know?" Urag echoed. He was certain he'd never told Talvan about Septimus.

Talvan just smiled, eyelids drooping, and reached out his hand, fingers brushing Urag's own. "I could tell, when I met you." His eyelashes fluttered once, then closed. "You were lonely like me..."

He was asleep before Urag could respond, hand falling onto the coverlet and head lolling back on the pillows as his breathing slowed and evened out. Unsure of what to do, Urag got up, draped a blanket over him, and left as quietly as he could.

_You were lonely like me._

He supposed he had been. But he was less lonely now than he had been in a long time, and that realization was like the first thaw after a long winter's chill. The Arcanaeum was quiet and dark when he unlocked its doors, and he welcomed its embrace as he lit the sconces on the walls, at home once more. He thought about his friend, peacefully asleep, and hoped Talvan was less lonely now, too. 

 

All things considered, he shouldn't have been as surprised as he was by the events of the following day. The rumor mill amongst both staff and students was astonishingly efficient. Still, his interactions with Talvan had been so innocuous that he couldn't imagine that anyone would read anything into them other than simple concern for a friend's well-being. But he'd gone down to the Hall of the Elements early that morning to set up for his lecture, and been met with sly looks from both Phinis and Sergius, though neither of them said anything to him. He hadn't given it much thought at first - Phinis was a bit of an odd fellow to begin with, and if Sergius ever bothered him about anything, he'd be more than happy to remind the man that he knew all about his little "problem" with Nirya and Faralda.

That was only the beginning. By lunch, he'd started to become acutely aware that he was being either gawked at or subtly congratulated by nearly everyone he'd come into contact with, and more than once, he'd entered a room, only to have the hushed whispers in the corners cease almost immediately, followed by sideways glances. It was all very unsettling, but he ignored it, until he ran into Brelyna on the stairwell between the Arcanaeum and the hall.

"Oh, Urag! I'm glad I caught you," she greeted him, all business. "I've just had a letter from the Arch Mage. He said to let you know that he had to take a bit of a detour, but he should be back in a week or so with those writings you were looking for."

It wasn't surprising news - Jal was truly gifted when it came to tracking down lost items, for whatever reason - but it was still the best thing he'd heard all day, and he nodded at her, grateful. "I appreciate the update."

She smiled, and he favored her with a small smiles in return. He rather liked Brelyna, now that he'd had time to get to know her over the years. She'd grown into a competent, confident mage, and was probably the best successor they could have chosen for Mirabelle - she took her duties as Master Wizard seriously, and kept things running smoothly, with or without Jal's presence. He was about to excuse himself when she took his arm and drew him aside, lowering her voice to a whisper.

"Can I ask... is it true? About you and Talvan?"

Urag's stomach did a most unwelcome twist in on itself. "What are you talking about?"

"There are some rumors going around that you two are..." She trailed off for a moment, studying his expression. "Well, you know how it is around this place, but considering you spend so much time together, I thought it might be best if I asked you directly."

"No," Urag said tightly. "We're not. Although that explains all the whispering."

"I see," Brelyna said, and there was something uncomfortably close to pity in those deep red eyes. She patted his forearm. "You deserve to be happy. Whether you think you do or not."

"I don't see what that has to do with this," Urag grumbled, even though he knew perfectly well that it had everything to do with this, and his heart sank as he wondered (not for the first time) how obvious his plight was to everyone except the one who mattered most. She was still looking at him with that damnable expression, however, so he changed the subject. "Your husbands came by earlier, looking for you. Something about a picnic?"

Brelyna's face lit up, and it was like he was looking at that young girl who first came to the College all over again. "Oh, Azura, that's right! I'm late! Thank you!" And with that, she dashed off, taking the stairs two at a time in her haste. Urag shook his head and continued up the stairs, going the opposite way. He was still unclear on the particulars of that whole situation - mostly how she and Onmund hadn't been driven to madness or killed in one of J'zargo's "experiments" - but the three of them seemed happy enough, so he didn't question it. Even if his colleagues did have strange taste in men.

Briefly, he contemplated how sex between a Nord, a Dunmer and a Khajiit worked, then immediately shoved the image out of his head. _Very strange taste, indeed._

 

Knowing what exactly what was being said about him and Talvan made it easier to deal with, though only just, and he was on edge for the rest of the day. Everyone seemed content to whisper and wonder and make up stories as it suited them, but lacked the courage to confront him directly. It nipped and prodded at him, salting the wound, making a mockery of his desires, and so when Enthir caught up with him in the courtyard after dinner, all unctuous smiles and smug aura, he was spoiling for a fight.

"I suppose I have you to thank for all this fuss," he said curtly.

Enthir cocked an eyebrow, smirk never leaving his face. "I'm flattered that you thought of me, but no. I just want to know if it's true or not."

"Why do you care?"

"Because you don't care about anyone at this College. Not really. Not since Septimus toddled off to the ice fields to go look for gods know what. And now, all of a sudden, you're cozy with one of the newer apprentices. Fucking him, if the rumors are true." It sounded crude leaving Enthir's mouth, untoward and sleazy. Urag's grimace deepened as he continued, "Don't you think he's a bit young for you?"

It stung, mostly because it was what Urag told himself every single day. "Mind your own business. Are you really so desperate for attention while your lover is away?"

Enthir's smile wavered, but only for a split second. "So you're not denying it, then?"

"There's no point in wasting my breath on baseless accusations."

"Baseless? More than one person saw you carrying him back to his room last night. And from what I heard, it sounded like you were - "

And with that, the last threads of Urag's patience, already frayed, snapped.

"Listen, you slimy, rumor-mongering git, I am nothing more than friends with Talvan, and we never will be!" He didn't much care what anyone there thought of him, particularly Enthir, but Talvan deserved better. "We're barely even that. He's just a young, stubborn fool with more kindness than common sense. So put a stop to whatever bile that venomous tongue of yours has been spewing. Do you understand me?"

He expected an ugly response, caustic in that way Enthir specialized in while still sounding bored by the whole exchange. Instead, Enthir's gaze slid off to the side, somewhere just behind Urag's shoulder, and his smile was very cold.

"Perfectly."

He was already strolling away as Urag turned to see what had captured his attention, and there stood Talvan, arms hanging by his sides as he stared at Urag, eyes narrowed. Something inside Urag came loose and crumbled as his world shrunk to nothing but the suddenly insurmountable expanse of snow between them.

"Talvan," he started.

"Oh, piss off," Talvan said hoarsely, and disappeared with nary a sound. He really was getting good at Invisibility spells.

 

A week crawled by before he saw Talvan again, and each of those seven days was more grey and joyless than the one preceding it. He supposed, on some level, that he might have tried to pretend that he didn't care in the past, but that was beyond him at this point. He'd finally remembered what it was like to want, and pretending not to want didn't make it hurt any less, didn't make it any less real or concrete. All it did was make him want more. Over and over again - Want, couldn't have. Shouldn't matter. Did.

He was acutely lonely, and like some sort of thrall, the Arcanaeum reflected his emotions, growing dustier and more austere by the day. Nobody dared come near him in that time, and he sensed he'd wanted this once - had longed for peace and solitude - but the _why_ now eluded him. All the organization and ritual he normally took such pride in seemed meaningless, devoid of their usual charm, but the end of that week found him doing some half-hearted cleaning, just to pass the time. He'd rearranged his desk and cleared some of the mess from the drawers when a familiar voice asked, "Good gods, what happened in here?"

It took every ounce of Urag's considerable self-control not to flinch. He hadn't heard anyone come in. He shut the drawer.

"I've had other things to attend to."

What he expected in response, he wasn't sure, but it wasn't for Talvan to come closer, tentative, and ask, "Need a hand?"

It took them the better part of two hours to get everything cleaned up and back into its proper place, but the atmosphere was less tomb-like by the end of it, and they sat at one of the tables together when it was done, covered in dust, ink and sweat.

"Thank you," Urag said, because he had no idea how to even begin to approach what needed to be discussed, and figured that was as good a place to start as any. Talvan, on the other hand, wasn't known for his patience. Or tact.

"Why did you say those things to Enthir?"

Urag mentally shuffled through several answers and settled on the one closest to the truth. "I was trying to protect you."

"How?" Talvan looked utterly baffled at this. "What are you talking about? It was just a stupid rumor."

"Because..." _Because I want it to be true._ "I don't want anyone to think that I'm taking advantage of you. Or that you'd have to settle for me when you could have anyone."

Talvan's expression shifted from bewildered to something that he couldn't read, and he rubbed his hand across his face. "I don't understand you sometimes." Before Urag could ask what that was supposed to mean, he shook his head and waved it off. "Never mind. Look, you're not taking advantage of me. Anyone with the smallest bit of sense can see that. Everyone will forget about this and move onto something else in a few days, just like they always do."

"I suppose. And I apologize for the light I painted you in to Enthir, but - "

"You'd better," Talvan cut in, but his face softened after a second. "I don't hang around because I feel sorry for you. You don't honestly think that, do you?"

"Of course not. But you don't deserve to be thought of as my..." He could hardly get the word out. " _Lover._ "

And for the second time in as many hours, he was unprepared for Talvan's reaction, which was to say, very quietly, "Why?"

Urag spluttered. "What do you mean, _why_?" A better question to ask would be 'why not' - friendship was one thing, but romance? Beyond preposterous. "You know why. Look at us." It hurt to finally say it, the words like shards of glass on his tongue. "I'm old. Far too old for you. Surely you can see that."

"And what if," Talvan said, "I don't care?"

There was no way he could be saying what it sounded like he was saying. No way he could be looking at Urag with frustration and longing all snarled up in his eyes, the way Urag had been looking at him for months. Urag was acutely aware of his own too-loud heartbeat in the absolute stillness that followed, and he knew he should say something, but in that moment, all words eluded him.

"It's amazing to me how someone so wise can be so dense," Talvan sighed, more to himself than anyone. "Do you really think I care about that? Am I supposed to find you repulsive?" Urag considered this through his stunned haze. It wasn't so much about _supposed to_ as he'd just assumed that Talvan would, in fact, find the idea of coupling with him distasteful, if not downright laughable. Talvan huffed a little after another long moment passed, face pinched in annoyance. "Will you please _say_ something already?"

"Even if... even if you don't find me so unpleasant, it can't last." How could he explain how exhausting it was, to watch everything and everyone he'd even come close to loving slip through his fingers until all he was left with was a roomful of books? How tired he was of losing to the whims of the heart and the passage of time? "You can't possibly think - "

"And why not?!" Talvan demanded. "Why couldn't it last? For Y'ffre's sake, Urag, I'm perfectly capable of deciding what I do and don't want in a lover, and I don't need you to do it for me. So if you don't want me, then say so, but don't you dare put this all on me!"

"You foolish boy, you have no idea how wrong you are!" Urag snapped. "You think I don't want you? I can't _sleep_ for the want of you some nights! I tried to keep you away, but here you are, and you have so much time to start over if things go wrong, but I don't!" It was too late to stop now. The dam had burst, and it all came pouring out, desperate and unrefined. "I know how to be alone. What I don't know is how to want, or how to _stop_ wanting, and it'll only hurt all the more when you eventually find someone who can give you what you deserve!"

The words hung raw in the air between them. He was breathing hard, standing now - he didn't remember standing - and Talvan was standing too, eyes dark, mouth a thin, pale slash in the middle of his face.

"I may be young," he said, low and furious, "but I'm not the one being foolish right now."

He didn't bother with Invisibility this time. He just shoved past Urag and stormed away. Urag sank back into his chair and stared at the wall. In the distance, he heard a door slam.

 

What did you do with the remains of a friendship ripped apart through fear? Urag didn't know. He'd never had much of anything to ruin, save with Septimus, and the man's mind had been so far on another plane that insulting him would have proved difficult, if not impossible. He lay in bed now, numb, and wondered if the pain would set in eventually, or if this was the pain, so deep that he could no longer feel anything. He had no experience differentiating.

It had hurt when Septimus had up and left, but that was just him being Septimus. He followed his obsessions where they lead, even if that meant retreating up north and living amongst the ice and wild creatures for the rest of his days. There hadn't been any malice in it. But this wasn't the same thing at all. He'd been so set on avoiding even the potential of pain, he'd inadvertently caused it instead, and he had no idea if what he'd done could be fixed.

That night was lost to a sleepless deluge of tossing and turning, and when that didn't help, pacing, bare feet whispering on the rug by the hearth as he wore an anxious pattern into the fibers. How did he make it right? Was there even a way to do so? He didn't know whether to seek Talvan out or give him space. Would reaching out show he cared, or was it just another self-serving gesture? This apology business was complicated. He despaired of finding a solution that would soothe the hurt he'd created, or at least convince Talvan that he was truly sorry and not to give up on him entirely. Although, he supposed if Talvan had given up on him, he deserved it. 

_He wanted me like I wanted him, and I couldn't see it._

The thought ate away at him, left him bruised and chewed up around the edges. He'd ruined anything they could have had before it even started, but as much as that hurt, it hurt more to contemplate losing what was already there. To never see that smile directed at him again. No more banter or late night visits to keep him company, no more conversations about magical theory or teasing Talvan about his love of gossip... it made him want to tear something apart, try to take some of that overflowing pain and put it somewhere tangible so it wasn't too big for his chest anymore.

He would find a way to apologize, the right way. He would find a way to solve the problem he'd created.

He had to.

Sleep finally found him as the sun crept over the horizon, and he let it take him, because it was better than being awake.

 

The thing about hurting was that the world turned on, with or without you. The sun still rose, the birds still sang, and he still had to open the Arcanaeum for anyone who might need it. At least one or two students crept in, cautious, as the morning bled into afternoon, and he found himself oddly grateful. If no one had come by, he might as well have stayed in bed. But once they left, no one else dropped in, and the hours dragged on at an excruciatingly slow pace. He kept to his schedule. He ate, though it tasted like nothing, and he read, though the words were gibberish to his tired eyes.

After a while, though, he gave up pretending to be interested in the book and moved on to staring at the ceiling, thinking about what he might say the next time he saw Talvan. He couldn't come up with anything that seemed adequate, apart from "sorry I've had my head up my arse" (which, while true, didn't solve anything), so he took a nap at his desk, and woke up some time later with a crick in his neck. A quick spell cured that and his headache, but did nothing to alleviate the rest of his pains. It wasn't long before afternoon faded into a purple twilight, and he was in the middle of contemplating whether or not he wanted to bother with dinner when the doors flew open with a bang, hinges squealing in protest.

Talvan stood there, breathing hard, hair all mussed and a mad gleam in his eye. Urag was halfway to his feet before he realized what he was doing. Talvan slammed the doors shut behind him and stalked forward. Urag wasn't prepared for anything he did or said lately, it seemed, and he especially wasn't prepared for Talvan to jab a finger at him and hiss, "You are so _infuriating,_ I can't believe - of all the stupid, bullhead, _selfish_ \- " before giving up on words altogether and flinging himself into Urag's arms.

Urag let out a soft 'oof' as their bodies collided, and then Talvan was kissing him like a starving thing, angry and frantic, and then he was wrapping his arms around Talvan and kissing back, pouring months of pent-up desire into it until Talvan shoved him away, gasping.

"Don't you _ever_ try to push me away for my own good again," he panted, and balled the front of Urag's robes in his fists, "or I swear I'll feed your balls to the Augur of Dunlaine."

"I'm sorry," Urag said, and it wasn't nearly enough, so he cupped Talvan's face in his hands and kissed him again, murmuring "I'm so sorry, I didn't see how you could want me - "

"You're a stubborn old fool," Talvan mumbled, wrapping his arms around Urag's neck. "I've been trying to get you to notice for _months._ I couldn't have been more obvious if I'd just gone ahead and _kissed_ you, for gods' sake." He laughed a little, voice sharp like he was trying not to cry. "I might have, too, if I hadn't been afraid you'd set me on fire or something."

Urag stared down at the top of his head, flabbergasted. "Why didn't you just say so?"

"Would you have believed me if I had?"

Urag was forced to admit that no, he probably wouldn't have, and then he decided that words were wholly unnecessary in the moment, when Talvan's lips were so soft and pliant against his own. He ran his hands down Talvan's back and held him close, and Talvan was kind enough not to point out that he was shaking as he did.  "I forgive you. On one condition."

"Anything."

"No more silent pining." He ran his tongue up one of Urag's tusks, an unexpected movement that plucked a growl from Urag's throat, and began to undo the fastenings of his robes with nimble fingers. He pressed his hips against Urag's stomach so he could feel for himself that Talvan was hard and wanting. The knowledge that he was responsible for that want was dizzying. "No more pretending. No more _waiting_."

He grabbed one of Urag's hands and nuzzled his cheek into it, eyes bright and shameless as he searched Urag's face for an answer. "If this is too much right now, we can stop." His tone made it very clear that stopping was the last thing he wanted to do, however, and Urag was more than inclined to give in. Still, he made one last stab at practicality before he lost sight of reason altogether.

"I'm not supposed to close for another few hours. Anyone could walk in."

Talvan grabbed his face and kissed him hard and breathless, grinding against Urag as he whined, " _Let them._ "

Urag had already cleared all the books from his desk the previous day. Everything else was unimportant, and went tumbling to the floor with a clatter, and then Talvan was sprawled across the now-empty surface and they were tearing at each other's robes, made clumsy by urgency. Talvan finally just ripped his own robes open, leaving him bare from the waist up as he toed his boots off, and his skin was like amber, like honey in the sunlight, and Urag was done for. He yanked the boots the rest of the way off and flung them aside before pressing Talvan into the wood and palming his chest and ribs, biting at his collarbones and breathing him in. Talvan arched up into him, tangled around him and they were kissing again, deep, hands everywhere.

The door opened. "Urag!"

In sauntered Jal, locs tied back jauntily, a fresh scar across his nose, and a bundle tucked under his arm. "I have those - oh. Gods. Uh - "

"Get. Out."

"Right! Sorry, I'll just - " Jal stumbled backwards, shielding his eyes with the papers as he groped blindly for the door handle. "Should I - I mean, what do you want me to do with the - "

" _Out_!" Urag roared.

"Hang onto them for you then, yeah? Great! I'll see myself out."

The Arch-Mage fled back the way he'd come in, and Urag swore under his breath and tore himself away from a giggling Talvan long enough to go close and bolt both doors securely. When he turned back around, Talvan had finally managed to divest himself of everything but his smalls and was perched enticingly on the edge of the desk, all angles and lean muscle beneath soft, tawny skin. He beckoned, lips curving into a smile, and Urag, nothing short of entranced, obeyed.

(In the course of his tenure at the college, he'd read hundreds of poems dedicated to love and desire, and scoffed at all of them.

He would never scoff again.)

He practically fell to his knees, and part of him wanted to stop and savor the moment - commit every sight, sound, taste, every inch of naked flesh to memory because he was still afraid this might be the only time this happened and he refused to forget even a second of it - but mostly, he just _wanted._ "Take those off," he ordered, voice low.

Talvan grinned. "Bossy."

He did as he was bid, laying back so he could unlace the offending garment and slide it teasingly off his hips, and then it was gone. His cock rose from between his thighs, unconstrained now, slender and rigid, a bead of pre-come already gathering at the tip. Urag swallowed, once, and his own cock twitched, growing even harder in the confines of his robes.

It had been years since he'd done this, and he'd thought he might be apprehensive in the unlikely event that this were to happen outside of his fantasies. Faced with reality, uncertainty was the furthest thing from his mind. He wrapped his hands around Talvan's hips, earning a sharp intake of breath, tugged him forward so he was balanced right on the edge of the desk, and took Talvan into his mouth as far as he could in one go.

Talvan made a short, shocked noise - and maybe he was, he wouldn't be the first to have worries about the tusks getting in the way of such activities - and threw his head back as his hips jerked helplessly in Urag's hands. "Oh, _fuck._ "

This was no tease, no exploratory game. Urag _took,_ sloppy and hot, swallowing Talvan's cock relentlessly, licking him from base to tip with broad, flat strokes of his tongue before sucking the sensitive head, planting soft kisses on the tip, and then doing it all over again. All the while, Talvan writhed under him, eyes wide and unfocused as filthy litanies poured from his lips, punctuated by little gasps and cries.

"I could listen to you forever," Urag murmured, pulling back to catch his breath. He was so hard it bordered on painful and he'd never heard anything half as beautiful. Talvan let out a shaky laugh and propped himself up on his elbows, but Urag bent his head once more and dragged his tongue across Talvan's balls and up his shaft, and whatever he'd  been about to say dissolved into a moan.

Urag pinned his hips with one broad forearm and worked him mercilessly, alternating between his lips and tongue and his free hand until Talvan whimpered - a broken off little whine that went straight to Urag's cock - and clawed at the desk, shuddering. " _Gods,_ fuck, Urag I can't - I need - "

"Not yet."

He wasn't done yet. He gave Talvan a moment to recover while he got to his feet (his knees were threatening to mutiny if he stayed on them much longer), a little out of breath and achingly, overwhelmingly aroused. Talvan stared up at him, cheeks stained pink and eyes glazed over, and Urag stared back, captivated by the sight of all that smooth skin glistening with sweat and spit.

"If you don't get back over here right now," Talvan said, voice cracking, and Urag reached out and ran the pad of his thumb across the curve of Talvan's cheek and down, skimming across that plush lower lip. Talvan's tongue was startlingly pink and wet against his skin in response, and he groaned and yanked his hand away so he could kiss Talvan again, messy, fingers buried in his hair.

"You have to tell me," he gasped against Talvan's lips, his voice so scratchy and deep with desperation that it sounded more beast than mer. "You have to tell me that you want this, that I can - "

His throat seized up and he couldn't get the rest of the words out, but it didn't matter because Talvan reared up and grabbed his face with both hands, held it steady while their eyes met and his were big and glassy as he babbled, everything pouring out all at once.

"I tried to bring it up when we were in here the other day, when we were alone, but you weren't - you didn't get it and I didn't want to just _ask_ , I was afraid, but you don't - do you have _any_ idea? Any idea at all about how long I've thought about you throwing me down on this desk and rutting me silly?"

Urag's breath stuttered at that, and Talvan pressed closer still, fingertips digging into Urag's jaw. "Take off your robes and fuck me." And then he crushed their mouths together once more and Urag melted into him, fueled by a desperate longing to taste every inch of that lush mouth as he yanked his own robes open and shrugged them off, leaving the fabric to pool around his feet.

It had been a long time since he'd been naked in front of another living soul, and for the first time since Talvan came storming into the Arcanaeum, a hint of trepidation blossomed. But he was no coward, especially not with such a beautiful creature writhing beneath him, so he shed his smallclothes and kicked them aside, grunting as his cock sprung free and slapped against his stomach, flushed dark with blood and wet at the tip.

"Shit," Talvan choked out against his mouth, flinching as he felt it nudge against his own length. "That's - "

"If it's too much, we don't have to - I mean, there are other things we can do."

"Shut up," Talvan hissed as he snaked a hand between them and ran his fingertips along the underside of Urag's cock, as far as he could reach, the skin there velvety and hot. It had been years since anyone had touched him like that, and Urag's knees nearly gave out. He caught himself on the edge of the desk, white-knuckled, and Talvan made a satisfied little crooning noise in his ear, pleased with the reaction. "Just work me up to it."

"Are you sure?" Urag pulled back to look at him properly. Talvan flushed a dark pink color all the way down to his chest as he nodded, just like Urag had imagined he might. The sight made his cock throb.

"I've found it helps me... relax when, ah... when someone uses their mouth along with their fingers. Only if you want to, of course." He squirmed with the admission, the last few words barely above a whisper, and Urag had no idea how he ever refused Talvan before, how he could deny him anything. It didn't seem possible.

He slid his hand between Talvan's splayed thighs and palmed the slick head of his cock, ducked his head in and traced a delicate line along the taper of one of those slender ears with his tongue, and the noise he got in response - a shocked cry as Talvan's fingers dug into his biceps - had him harder than steel, his cock leaking precome. He wrapped his lips around the tip of Talvan's ear and _sucked._ Talvan ground his cock into Urag's fist and made the same desperate noise, which bled into a whimper of protest as Urag let him go and stepped away.

"Get on your hands and knees and don't move. I'll be right back."

He sent up a silent prayer of thanks that he'd seen fit to keep a vial or two of oil on hand, for the rare occasions when he wanted to get off and take his time doing so, and went to retrieve them from their drawstring pouch in the top drawer of his nightstand. When he came back, the sight that awaited him nearly made him drop his find, fumbling with the little leather bag momentarily as his throat went dry.

Talvan had propped himself up on the desk as requested, back arched and legs spread wide for balance, and his cock hung red and heavy between his thighs. He looked so blissful, so pleased to lay himself bare for the taking, that Urag forgot what he was supposed to be doing for the moment and just stared, drinking every inch of him in. Talvan glanced over his shoulder, and when his heavy-lidded eyes met Urag's, he smiled and wiggled his hips deliberately, a question and a challenge all at once.

Urag bit his lip so hard he nearly drew blood. He stalked back up to the desk, carefully setting the oil off to the side, out of the way but still within arm's reach. He grabbed Talvan's hips and let his hands linger there for a moment before cupping his ass with both hands, kneading the soft flesh there as he spread him wide. Talvan moaned softly, burying his face in the cradle of his forearms, and Urag leaned in and licked him once, soft, with just the tip of his tongue, relishing the way it made the moan pitch forward in a wobbly little yelp.

"Oh - !"

He pressed back against Urag's mouth, demanding more with a roll of his hips, and Urag gave him what he wanted, ate him out slow and wet and filthy, grinding himself absently against the polished wood of his desk to relieve some of the pressure in his cock. He kissed and sucked at the soft skin there, over and over, squeezed Talvan's ass and watched that lithe back arch, gleaming with sweat as he fucked Talvan with his tongue, and all the while Talvan swore and whimpered and cried out, a near-constant stream of nonsensical, sweet sounds as he clawed at the desk and whatever else he could reach. Urag never wanted it to stop. He reached around Talvan's waist and stroked his cock lightly, in time with each teasing thrust of his tongue, and Talvan went boneless beneath him, panting, writhing as he gritted out, "F-fingers, your fingers, _please._ "

It took over half of one vial to work Talvan up to three fingers, even in his relaxed state, and even though he kept trying to push back onto them, Urag held him still with his free hand, determined to go slow. His cock ached for some sort of friction the entire time and it took every ounce of self-control he had not to just grind himself to completion between those soft, lean thighs. Eventually Talvan quit squirming and just held onto the edge of the desk like his life depended on it, hair dark and matted to his scalp with sweat, and the muscles in his back twitched every time Urag curled his fingers.

"I think I'm ready," he gasped, and clenched down around the thick digits with a groan, all tightness and wet heat. " _Gods._ Yes. Definitely ready."

Urag half-laughed, half-snorted as he pulled his fingers free, gently as he could, even though every muscle, every inch of him down to his bones was screaming to go _now, now, now,_ he had to be inside Talvan _now_ \- and then he was slicking himself with the rest of the oil from the open vial and Talvan was looking back at him, his expression perfectly mirroring Urag's, a portrait of anguished arousal. "You're not going to make me beg, are you? Because I will."

"No," said Urag, and wrapped his hands around Talvan's hips once more. "You don't need to beg."

The first push was still tight, even after all their preparation, so tight he feared he might have to stop. But Talvan didn't seem to think so - his face was buried in his arms again and he was panting between sucking in lungfuls of air - and Urag rocked his hips a little, experimentally, trying not to move too quickly, even though every inch of him howled for _more_ and _faster._ He reached for the oil and poured out some more, watching fascinated as it splashed over where their flesh joined, the thick head of his cock just disappearing into Talvan, and trickled shiny and slick down the back of his thighs.

Talvan made a strangled noise and rocked his hips back. They both gasped as Urag slid a little deeper, and Urag groaned, fingers tightening reflexively around Talvan's hips for a split second.

"Sorry," he gritted out. "Did I hurt you?"

"No, no," Talvan breathed, eyes screwed shut. "It's good, it's good, don't stop..."

Urag smoothed his hands down Talvan's sides, comforting, holding him steady. He started again, head thrown back and breath coming in ragged grunts as he slid in, inch by exquisite inch. He closed his eyes and tried to focus on something, anything other than the melty-hot sensation of Talvan around him, so lush and tight, and he couldn't look or else he'd be done for - he'd come before he was even halfway in, and he refused to ruin this. He breathed in hard through his nose, sweat trickling down his temple, and Talvan reached back, groping for Urag's clean hand. Urag met him halfway and took his hand, their fingers twining together as he went deeper still. "Are you... ?"

It took a moment for Urag to realize what he was trying to ask, and his ears went warm, a curl of heat starting low in his stomach. "Not... not yet."

His hips faltered in their rhythm as Talvan let out a sobbing, incredulous laugh. " _You're not all the way in yet?_ "

Urag let Talvan squeeze his fingers, too overwhelmed to reply, and Talvan inhaled sharply as he fought to relax his body even further, trembling visibly with the effort, muscles standing out in stark relief beneath sweat-glossed, bronze skin.

"I want to, but I don't know if I can - _ah_ \- take it all..."

He was so small, Urag realized, looking down at him, but far from fragile; he was strong, and good, so good it made Urag's heart ache, and he wanted to give Talvan everything he had and then some. He ran his hand down Talvan's back and thighs, voice so warm with pride and want that he almost didn't recognize himself as he leaned in and whispered words of encouragement and praise.

"You can. You can do this. I've got you. You're so sweet and you feel so good. I want... I want to make you feel so full."

He'd never been much for talking during sex. It had always made him uncomfortable, and he never felt like he was doing it right. But Talvan seemed to be eating it up, judging from the little gasp he made and the way he clenched around Urag, so Urag kept going, petting Talvan as he mumbled filthy endearments in his ear, punctuated by nibbles and licks to the soft skin there.

"I'll do that for you. I'll do whatever you want." He punctuated this admission with a long, slow press of his hips that had Talvan scrabbling against the desk beneath him, fighting for breath as his body yielded to that insistent motion. "You want me to just get inside you and then not move? I can just touch you. I can hold you and let you feel how full you are and tell you how good you feel around me. Do you want that?"

"Yes yes _yes_ \- "

"You're doing so well." He shifted his weight to get a slightly better angle, his cock angling so it rubbed against _something_ in Talvan that made him arch like a bow, taut, mouth falling open slightly as he moaned, and Urag groaned with him, at the sensation of Talvan's muscles fluttering around him. " _Divines,_ you're so good, just hold on a little bit longer - "

And then Talvan growled and _shoved_ back against him, slick opening swallowing him the rest of the way, and Urag lost the ability to speak. All he could do was gasp and drape himself over Talvan, buried to the hilt as they trembled together.

It wasn't going to last. It couldn't. But he did have the pleasure of witnessing Talvan go to pieces beneath him, flexing back against Urag with every stroke, keeping him in one place so that the thick base of his cock dragged against that spot with every needy rock of those slim hips, until he was incoherent, grinding sloppily as he pressed his overheated face against the cool wood of the desk beneath him.

Urag wrapped a forearm around Talvan's belly, supporting him, and palmed Talvan's sticky, aching cock, making a loose fist for him to fuck into. He held still, unable to tear his eyes away from the sight, and let himself be used as a mere toy, like he existed solely for Talvan's pleasure, for him to ride and _take_ until neither of them could stand it any longer. The thought made him throb and press his lover more firmly against the desk, blanketing him with his body, which in turn made Talvan writhe beneath him like some sort of beast in heat.

He had stopped caring if he came at all, as long as Talvan did, but in the end, he didn't have a choice; Talvan suddenly went still beneath him, came with a shocked cry and no warning at all. His muscles rippled and _clenched_ and then Urag was dragged over the edge with him, gasping as his orgasm rose up from his belly and crashed over him in a wave of unrelenting heat.

It took some time to disentangle themselves. Neither of them was in any state to move much and once Urag had gently freed himself, Talvan kept trying to wrap himself Urag's broad torso and distract him with kisses. Once he felt like his legs would work properly, Urag carried him into the bedroom, leaving all their clothing behind in an untidy heap, and they curled up on the bed, sweaty and sated. Talvan buried his face in Urag's neck.

"Can we go for dinner soon?" he mumbled. "'m hungry."

"We can do whatever you like."

Talvan chuckled and turned his face up, pressed his lips against Urag's jaw. "Don't say that. You're never going to rid yourself of me now."

"Good."

 

Breakfast the following morning was a strange affair for almost everyone, and especially for those who had never seen Urag in happier days. The old librarian almost never took meals at the same time as the rest of the staff, and it was a shock to see him at all, let alone to watch him with Talvan, who was snuggled into his side, stealing bits of food from his plate while they bantered. Brelyna was there too, sitting with Onmund and J'zargo on one of the benches. She waved at him with a knowing smile and he couldn't find it in himself to be annoyed, so he just smiled back instead. 

"They'll get used to it, don't worry," Talvan said, and popped a slice of apple in his mouth. "Something _much_ more shocking will come along in a day or two."

"Nothing to do with you, I'm sure," Urag grumbled, fondness in every word.

"How dare you," Talvan said. "I never start rumors." Urag tweaked his ear, and the look Talvan shot him in response, all heat and mischief, had him clearing his throat as his cock twitched uncomfortably in his smalls, still sensitive from the previous night's activities.

"You're going to be the death of me," he said low under his breath, and Talvan's smile only grew wider.

Towards the end of their meal, Jal detached himself from Enthir's side long enough to come give Urag the writings, and to congratulate them (even if he couldn't quite look either of them in the eye).

"Next time," he said as he handed the worn parchment over, "take it somewhere more suitable, will you? Somewhere private. Students still need to use the library."

"Of course," Urag said. Talvan squeezed his hand under the table, and he squeezed back.

He didn't feel bad in the slightest.

**Author's Note:**

> * ~ * follow for more soft elf porn * ~ *
> 
> mimosasupernova.tumblr.com


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